


Nesting

by DavidtheAthenai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27010948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavidtheAthenai/pseuds/DavidtheAthenai
Summary: A short tale of wonder and acceptance, of nature and community, of expectations and change
Relationships: Fleur Delacour & Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Nesting

**Author's Note:**

> A very small Author's Note
> 
> I highly recommend you read the other two one shots on my profile, 'On the affectionate nature of Veelas, A Study by Harry James Potter' and 'On the Vindictiveness and Devotions of Veela' as this one has several references to both of them. It is not absolutely necessary you do so though.

I stood anxious next to the giant nest in the middle of my private faculty lodgings, making the strongest effort not to start pacing.

Yes, this may need a bit more in the way of explanation. You see, I was awaiting the birth of my first daughter. Or rather, the second birth of my first daughter. I think I'm not doing a very good job at explaining this. Can you blame me though? I am in quite a fidgety mood.

I guess the beginning is as good a place as any to start.

* * *

When did this begin though? One could argue it had begun ten years before, with a stolen kiss on one of the darkest nights of my life. For the sake of my frayed nerves, I'll begin just a bit closer. About 10 months earlier to be precise.

I'm sure the precise moment it began need not be described, other than the fact that my very beautiful wife and I had been maybe a bit friskier than usual. We had not been actively seeking children, but we wanted them so we made no special steps to avoid them. Veelas' natural difficulty for conceiving was enough that it took years to get to the point where she drew me aside one day -completely interrupting my 5th years' evening class- and told me the good news.

I hardly reacted at first. The… magnitude of the change that the short sentence brought did not hit at first.

I remember the classroom doors banging open with a crash, my wand in my hand, and a curse half uttered until that very wand lit in a joyful cry at the closeness of the one who birthed it. The warmth of her magic snuck up on me in a way it couldn't have done had I not been standing right next to the downy cushion on my chair that exuded the very same magic, the very same feeling.

She was not angry then, at least.

Fleur strode through the aisle between the desks, almost strutting, her strides long, her hair bouncing with each step, and glowing. Literally. Glowing bright enough that her light overpowered the rays of moonlight that came through the windows.

The students that were not charmed solid on their seats leapt back, trying to put distance between them and her. Years of experience made me take a cursory glance at the faces in the room, looking for any sign of hostility.

There were ogling faces, there always were, both enthralled and sober. And as always happened when her blood flowed closer to the surface and her nature flowered, there were a lot of wary and scared faces. Distrustful too.

She did not care about them anymore, she did not hide behind her own skin and that fact alone always made my heart soar.

She stopped right in front of me, her face tilted cutely the mere inch it needed to meet my eyes directly, her smile pearlescent under her own light. Her kaleidoscope eyes crinkled mirthfully.

"Madame Delacour, is there something you require?"

"We are going to be parents, mon coeur."

"In that case- wait. Say that again."

"Nous allons être parents!"

I stood there stupidly, babbling like an imbecile, until I gathered my wits enough to kiss her. To hold her tight enough that I may feel that little piece of us, a confirmation of her words.

The cheers brought me back from the shock, reminded me that I was in the middle of a class. I let her go the only way I knew, reluctantly.

"You are all dismissed. See you tomorrow." The cheers came back with a vengeance, bringing sharp celebratory whistles with them as the class packed hurriedly and left, no one looking back in case I changed my mind.

I put my hand on Fleur's belly as I had done a million times before, it was soft as a pillow, firm with eternal youth, warm as the home we had made for each other. It felt as it always did. Not that such a thing would make it any less special.

"You know," I said, avoiding any serious talk, "You may be the hero of those kids now. Coming in and seducing their tyrannical professor away from the five pm class."

She merely giggled and leapt into another kiss. Our figures contoured and my hands roamed, fingers tracing familiar shapes through a river of lava until they reached the back of her legs. A move saw us to the desk where she sat and comfortably leaned back into her hands. scattering meaningless parchment as I rested my forehead just above her navel. My nose brushed the cloth of her shirt and she shivered, in reminiscence, in expectation.

Reaching, I planted a butterfly kiss. My lips barely touched under the line of her pants and a hand reached through my perpetually messy hair, fingers scraping in remembrance, in ache. I looked up and saw slanted eyes that no longer changed, but unfurled, darkened by that force primaeval.

Sharp lips quivered under the shape of my chin, fingers tightened.

"I wish I could feel him," I turned my head but the ear pressed into service came up with the same answers my hand had.

"Listen, mon Doudou, but not with your ears," her pointed nails scratched my hair and my eyes closed in bliss, my body melted even more against her, "Listen with that part of you that is Us."

It was not hard. Relaxed and with my eyes closed I could feel the thrum of her being, I could feel the strings of me answering the tune as they had done for the best part of a decade, I could feel the fire that bound us.

But us had changed. Us had another person now.

I smiled and sniffed and turned my face to her skin, tears dripping on her shirt, and I embraced her with all my strength. She answered in kind, her hand pressing me against her, her legs wrapped around my back.

"Nous allons être parents," she repeated in a whisper.

"Nous allons être parents" my voice broke as I repeated against her skin.

* * *

"I- that is, We- There is something else you need to know, 'Arry," She said as we laid on my bed, her head resting on my chest.

"You are not about to tell me veelas have seven children all at once, right? Cause I might faint if you do."

She slapped her hand on my chest and giggled before falling silent for a few seconds, her fingers drawing patterns on my skin.

"'ow do you know it's something about veela what I needed to tell you," she said in a small voice.

I tightened my arms around her until she sighed and relaxed against me again. "You never get this quiet for anything else, love," my hands reached and glided through her hair, making it shine in the dim light of the single torch, plucking that string that bound us and making it sing. "I hope someday you won't feel like you need to hide."

She crawled up till our lips met and lingered in a butterfly's touch, our noses brushing each other after the kiss ended, "You wouldn't mind, then? If I were to be such an aberrant as to birth a clutch?"

Holding back a smile I kissed the tip of her sharp nose and her eyes closed again. "I did say I wanted a big family. It would take a bit of an adjustment. And I may still faint, mind you, but no, I would not care," she smiled again, that sweet, wavering smile that carried the sense of all the tears shed through the years. "There is one thing though. I get to choose all the names."

Her eyes opened, "You named our owl Governor Schwarzenegger, mon amour, you are not naming our child."

I tried for my best imitation of her most disarming pout, but instead of charming her I merely set her in a fit of giggles that quickly started to sound quite chirpy. This bout of her particular brand of cuteness gave me no other choice than to kiss her again. I wrapped my arm around her waist and twisted so that she lay under me before meeting her lips again.

"In my defense," I said against her lips, "That _is_ the biggest owl I've ever seen."

She laughed again.

"Are we having seven children then?"

"No, no we aren't. We are 'aving only one, as it's normal for those of… of my kind."

She wavered there, better give her a preemptive kiss. There, I thought as her lips smiled against mine, that's better.

"What troubles you then? You know I wanted kids, so it can't be that."

"The problem, mon petit, is that the baby may be like you, or it may be like me."

"So, it could have an ugly black mop of straw for hair like me? That's terrible. Poor little child," She snorted and resorted to her old habit of slapping my shoulder playfully, the little boxer.

"I mean, that it could be a boy and a wizard, like you. Or a girl and a veela, like me."

"Believe it or not, my little moonbeam, I had imagined that could be the case."

Hands that had been running up and down my back stopped, fingers digging in. "You don't know what it means."

"Then tell me."

She locked eyes with me and gulped. "It may be a boy," she said, "and then you would 'ave to take me to Saint Mungo after nine months of strange food cravings, 'eavy as a baleine. I would give birth there in the usual fashion, a lot of screaming and all that."

"Mhmm," I caressed her cheek with the back of my fingers, the yellow light of the room playing with the peaks and plains of her face, "and what would happen if it is a little bundle of flowers like you?" I gave her one more kiss, because why not? Words could wait.

"Then you would 'ave to deal with some… different kinds of cravings."

"Oh really?" I said as I started to kiss down her jaw, her neck, "I can deal with that."

"Mind out le gouttière, monsieur," she breathed out while exposing more of her neck to my ministrations.

The rest of the explanation was delayed due to, _*ahem*_ , rain.

* * *

"You should not distract me like that, mon amour."

"Sorry," I said as I twirled a lock of her hair around my finger.

She scoffed.

"You were saying something about cravings?" I drew a finger down her chest, which she slapped away sternly.

"I was. Until I was rudely interrupted."

"I didn't hear any complaints from you. Oh, wait! I did hear you complain about something. Something about my speed, maybe?"

Incredibly, amusingly, she blushed like a ruby in the sun.

"Smug prat," she exhaled.

"But yours," I answered with another doting kiss, "What are these cravings you speak of then, my prude veela."

"Things."

"Things?"

"Things. Shiny things, soft things, things to build a nest with."

"Really?"

"Lots of twigs, too."

"You are having me on. Twigs?"

"You should 'ave seen mother's nest when she 'ad Gabby. It was 'uge."

I barked out a laugh, "Why, my petal, I married a regular magpie!"

She buried her face in my chest where I could feel the heat of her flushed face.

"So, is that all? You become a twig collector for nine months? I think that's better than drinking hot chocolate with meatball garnishes like Hermione," I shivered just remembering the sight, "that was truly inhuman."

She giggled against my chest, tickling me, and her bright blue eyes rose timidly from under the curtain of her disheveled hair, "I would be a twig collector for five months only."

"And then what?"

"Then I would lay…" Her face, already flushed, became so red that I worried she would combust.

"I did not get that last part, my petal. You'd lay?"

"I'd lay an egg!" she blurted and burrowed her head on my chest as firmly as an ostrich.

The declaration in itself was more than a bit shocking, and it took me several moments to process it. That was just as well, as Fleur took some coaxing in the form of hair brushing and shoulder scratching before she angled her face towards me again.

"An egg, then," I said with the utmost calm I could manage.

"'ow can you be so blasé about it."

"We have been together for ten years now, Fleur. I had seen a lot of that part of you that you don't like to show the world, and I love it. I love you. This is different, sure, but it's you, and that's enough for me."

Her wide eyes hid again against my chest, and she started crooning. I took it as a sign to caress her velvety back a bit more.

"So. You would get a craving for little twigs and build a nest. Five months and you lay an egg. Then what?"

"Then I care for it. It 'as to be kept warm and close to my feathers, fresh ones. The magic sings to the baby, oui? It tells 'er who maman is. It will keep growing for five more months, and then she will 'atch."

"All on her own? What a gallant little lady."

"Heh, no, silly. She would need a bit of 'elp. Maman and I 'elped little Gabby. We 'ave a bit of the shell preserved, mine too."

"That is adorable."

She sighed, her worries spent, and let her body mould to mine freely.

"I love you, mon petit chou. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement."

* * *

The day was warm and the Alley was teeming with life and colour. And I could not find Fleur. We had just left the ice cream parlor having gotten something to satisfy the eternal sweet tooth (Sweetbeak?) Fleur suffered, and then I got on waiting for Fleur's answer a bit too long only to realize she was not by my side.

Curse my stature, getting on my toes helped little to find her in the sea of pointy hats, and staying still was quickly going to get me stampeded over. Some little piece of shite bumped my shoulder hard enough to shake me and it took more than a little of my frayed self-control to not draw my wand. The war had not left me with not too calm reactions, more so when Fleur was out of my sight.

My expression was likely not very agreeable, for the man that was about to bump into me swerved around me in a strange pirouette, his eyes widening. I started to walk against the current of people with a purposeful stride, my head turning from side to side scanning the narrow, winding street looking for a flash of gold, a surge of warmth.

I went more by feel than anything else, the fluffed up dresses and coats blinding me. I lifted my hand, letting my wand fall to it, and held it against my chest, feeling the joyful cry of our mingling magic in my blood. The dark claw of wood was a very efficient crowd parter as it turns out.

Wand in hand, the ever near song of her was clearer. My feet swiftly followed the steps of the only song I could dance gracefully to, without a single thought.

They moved. They always did. The fury and the blaze that surrounded this small link touched something primordial in the hearts of men, and by the time they realized what the sudden surge of panic meant they had already reacted to it. There were few bold enough to try anything even then. The war had been not so long ago that people still remembered the stories clearly. No, no sane person would try anything against Fleur or me here.

I was worried about the not so sane ones though. There is always a surplus of crazy people.

It took only a minute before I found her. The only person not moving away in that peculiar shoal like manner. She was standing rooted to the floor, straight as an arrow, the only part of her that moved was her hair in the breeze. Her hands were over the slight bump on her belly in a gesture both clear and primal.

I got worried when she did not react to my presence. She had always had almost a sixth sense for that, but since that day when we pledged a part of us to each other she had always known, as did I. And right now I knew that for the first time in ten years she was completely unaware of my approach.

I walked to her slowly, taking care of making noise and being obvious. She had reflexes honed for war too, after all, and the soft downy growth on her hands and forearms spoke of the foolishness of a thoughtless approach.

"Amour?" I said when I was a couple meters away, and she turned her wide, sky filled eyes towards me, not entirely managing to focus them. Her face was frozen in something akin to surprise, with her upturned eyebrows and slightly parted lips. "Are you okay?"

She nodded once, slowly and unsure, her eyes still focused on something that I could not really see, before they turned again to what they had been fixed before. A store's shopfront, Quidditch Supplies shopfront to be precise.

She was eyeing the broom on display. An absolutely gorgeous racing model, all red woods polished to magnificence and a tail so orderly and well-groomed that it made me embarrassed for a moment of the state of my own broom, as well taken care as that was. The stirrups and girdle were made from some mirror-like bluish metal that reflected even the tiniest amount of light in such a way that it appeared as a wee lightning inside a storm cloud.

Fleur had never liked brooms. She found them to be 'crude instruments bereft of any sense of elegance'. Of course, she could fly on her own any moment she wanted, so she was bound to not be as fond of them as I am. Knowing this, and seeing the looks of that broom, it was not a difficult connection to make.

"Are we naming her after your grandmother, then? I quite like her name."

"It's a girl," she let out in a breath, her eyes widening further, if such a thing were possible. She locked her gaze to mine. "It's a girl," she repeated more firmly.

I smiled, my eyes watering unexpectedly, and gently hugged her from behind, my hands falling on top of hers, my face buried on her hair. For a moment we just stood still, nothing moving save our beating hearts. Floating in a moment of intimacy at the knowledge. Up to this point it had felt almost abstract, in a way, the idea of parenthood. Now that muddy painting started to take shape slowly, one stroke at a time.

"I'll go get the broom," I said, and she laughed.

"It's not really necessary, mon petit, I can use anything else."

"The little lass wanted this though, did she not? The first thing you craved. She deserves it. Besides, maybe this will make her like brooms more than you do." I kissed the top of her head and parted from her, one hand lingering on hers until the distance was too much to touch.

"Wait for me here."

* * *

"Are you sure she's coming now?"

The nervous tone of my voice was mirrored on Fleur's desperate pacing as she dug circles around a sizable nest made from twigs and feathers that sat in the very centre of our room where our bed used to be. Her hands roamed over the not insubstantial bulk in her midsection. We had decided for the nest to be in my room at Hogwarts so that I'd always be within screaming range.

"I am quite sure-ugh!" her pace quickened. She had been pacing for close to twenty minutes now, her face set in a focused grimace, her breathing coming out in quick, explosive bursts.

There is one thing they don't tend to tell you about being a father, and that is how useless you can feel at times.

Right now I was sitting on the edge of our loveseat, fingers dug deep into it and teeth clenched hard enough that I was worried they'd break. The only thing I could, in theory, do, was to tell her reassuring things. I was a bit stumped on that front, to say the least.

The curtains were drawn and the lights were dimmed, as much for privacy as for consideration for her overly sensitive eyes. I had never been under any illusions as to Fleur's nature. Even before I knew the words for it I knew she was different, but there had always been a bigger divide between her two natures. Part of it was a result of her conflict with such nature, part of it was just how Veela were, or so Apolline had explained to me years ago. The pregnancy though, had brought it closer, a unifying force on the universe I inhabited. She changed easily, effortlessly, her body always feverishly warm, the song of her blood thrumming in her sleep, her numinous light flooding every moment of my life.

I would wake sometimes to the soft tickle of her downy breasts on my fingers, her drowsy crooning mellifluous, her velvety body ductile. She painted a picture that would shame any brush, and I understood then how the stories of the fair folk became so prevalent. Such an image could not be forgotten, even if everything else was. A man could lose his mind and still keep the reflection of the pale moon against her shimmering skin.

Fleur stopped suddenly, drawing me from the sudden bout of reminiscence.

"Give me a 'and, mon coeur," she wavered, a taloned hand extended in plea. Rushing to her, and tripping several times along the way, I took her hand in mine, her sharpened fingers biting in, and putting an arm around her back helped her step into the nest. I started to stand, intending to give her more room to breathe, but she pulled me in, her face scrunched and her eyes closed.

The nest was big enough, so I sat behind her and pulled her to me, her back against my chest, our legs brushing. Leaning back helped relieve some of the tension and she relaxed, her hair wet with sweat stuck to my shirt. Fleur sighed and searched for my hands, our fingers entwining over her knees. I kissed the back of her head, stealing a content noise from her throat.

"You sure you don't want your mother here?" I asked while I rubbed circles on her hand with a thumb.

"Non, cherie. There is nothing she could do that you can't."

"I'm not doing much of anything either."

"Just 'old, me. Just- Agh!" Her whole body tightened in a sudden spasm, her feet shifting around.

I first thought to be delicate and careful so as to not hurt her, but had I not tightened my hand as hard as I possibly could I'm sure she'd have broken it. She relaxed again and fell bonelessly against me. I moved her hands to my wrists and pressed my fingers to the side of her legs, massaging them back and forth to the rhythm of her breaths. The spasm began anew, but this time I could feel it in the string of muscles on her thighs before she tensed.

The temperature in the room started rising, and in the next contraction -that was the word- I felt a sudden sharp pain. Fleur was limp again and I pulled her back until we were both reclined against the tall edge of the nest. I closed my eyes and focused on her, on the ring of fire that cut into our being. It simmered, peaceful, before burning bright and strong for a few seconds, accompanied by the muted pang on my abdomen.

You gallant lady, you.

There had been less than a handful of moments in all our time together where her pain had bled to me, where the flares had managed to burn me. Those had been terrible moments. Instants when I've been so afraid that- the rumble of a gale came, and I thought that maybe those memories were better left alone.

This time the contraction was longer, and the pain rose. I embraced it, called it to me and held to it like a breath of fresh air for my Fleur. Little it may be, but I'd give her all the respite I possibly could. We stayed like that for an amount of time that I could not have measured, as it tended to happen when we listened to each other with such attention, swaying in an ocean, rising and falling with the tide, kicking furiously against the murky depths at times and floating in exhaustion at others, holding on to the other as a piece of flotsam in these strange waters.

A most curious sound alerted me that something had changed. I opened my eyes and there, mere inches from where my hand could reach, lay an egg. It was more round than I thought it would be and incredibly white, a scattering of golden brown spots adorning the crown of it. It looked… soft. Like it would mould to where you hold it.

"Wow. That's- Wow."

She chuckled and reached forward, taking the egg- no, taking our daughter on her arms gingerly. I brushed my fingers over the shell, the roughness of it surprising me, as it was such a brilliant white that it looked flat. It was really warm too, almost like touching a cup of coffee, and soft. Leathery.

The shell moved against my finger, pushing, and I yipped, which made Fleur laugh.

"She's saying hello. Aren't you ma petite?" She crooned and caressed the egg, which made its little inhabitant move more in response.

I pressed my hand against it again, "Hello there, Oh! She's so strong! Aren't you a strong little girl?" Almost in response, she kicked again, "heh, yeah. It's me, your daddy, my little fairy girl."

"Fairy?" Fleur asked, amused.

"Well, she is magical, all right. And look how white the egg is!"

"Hmmm. It is, isn't it? Gabby's was blueish-grey and very speckled. Like her freckles, you know? the whole egg was like that. Are you going to be a pâle lady then, mon chouchou? My little Claire."

"Claire?" I asked, rubbing the sides of her arms.

"Claire… I like it," she said as she reclined back and closed her eyes, our little cookie wrapped in her arms, "Do you like it?"

"Claire Isabelle Potter," I turned to my side, embracing them both, "I absolutely adore it."

It took nothing more than a couple dozen seconds for our tired bodies to give up the fight against Hypnos, nuzzled by the warmth of our nest.

* * *

It's amazing how quickly five months can pass.

Fleur had become a common sight around the castle, after we decided we would stay in my professor lodgings, and as it happens she had become quite popular among the students for her habit, however involuntary, of stealing me away from classes every once in a while. She was well respected by the faculty, knowing most of them from the war, and she spent a lot of time with Minerva, who cared for her deeply, but the reactions of the students were, to her, the most surprising and unexpected.

She was greeted warmly through the halls, Mrs Potter, they'd call her and I'd laugh. The students didn't know she had not changed her last name, after all. We had both agreed that Potter and Flower was just too prone to puns. Suffice to say about her welcome in the castle, she did not lack for sweets during the whole term, nor had she lacked attention, the little, bold first years asking cutely if they could touch the baby bump and generally being fuzzy and adorable.

She loved it.

After the laying though, the general atmosphere changed. She was very… Well, very veela, as a result, but it took us a while to realise what had in reality brought the change. It turned out, most people did not expect a pregnant mother to suddenly slim down in a day without having a baby in sight. This, coupled with the fact that she started to spend considerably less time outside our rooms, and that the turn in the perceived acceptance she had enjoyed had saddened her, made people assume things.

It was not until one of my seventh-year students had stayed after class to give me his condolences on behalf of him and his classmates that we understood. Everyone thought she had miscarried, and no one was brave enough to approach Fleur directly. I felt a deep pang of fear just at the thought of it but shook it off, and thanking him for the thought, explained to him that everything was well, only that she had a certain heritage that made things a bit different.

I did not go into details, of course. Fleur would have done her utmost effort to tan me had I revealed something so very personal.

The rumour mill at Hogwarts being what it was everyone knew my explanation when not even two days had gone by. I think Fleur has never been so touched.

Meanwhile, little Claire kept growing, the egg expanding a bit each day. I would carefully look it over every evening, gently rolling it this side and counting the little golden spots, drawing constellations from them in my mind. It was growing warmer by the day too, and it got to the point that we started sleeping with the windows open in the middle of the damp Scottish winter.

I have to admit that it worried me at first, that she would cool with the cruel chill of the outside, but Fleur assured me, as she plucked small feathers from her iridescent arms to fluff up the base of the egg, that she would be perfectly all right as long as we properly sat her each day, as it were.

Christmas went by without much of a hitch, other than weird Christmas decorations being added to the nest by a surreptitious Fleur, Claire appropriately glowing from inside her shell. You could almost see the shape of her now silhouetted inside. Normalcy has the tendency of making the days flow together and so it was that one day in the middle of February, once again interrupting the very same class as the first time, crashed in in a flurry of feathers.

"It's 'appening!" she crowed in a resonating voice, her face sharpened and keratined, more than a suggestion of a beak showing in the slant of her cheekbones, and eyes as wide, I'm sure, as mine were.

Everything stood still for a few moments, a couple of plumes zigzagging their way to the ground, and then I started running. Not for the first time, I cursed the antiapparition enchantments in the castle. I heard a sudden swoosh sound behind me and only distant memories of a war fought made me brace in time.

Strong arms held me against the heavy body that had just crashed into me with the force of a cannonball, my feet left the ground and the hall moved around me at a disconcerting speed, a blur of grey that materialized into stone with each short stop before another whoosh melted it again. In no time we were bursting through yet another door.

The room was a stark contrast to both of us, startlingly quiet, wind whistling past the window carrying the smells of the highlands.

Our little Claire was as she had been for the last five months, upright in the middle of the nest.

"Are you-"

"Yes. Don't ask me 'ow, I just know," She fiddled with her fingers in that nervous way of hers that I found so endearing, her body not quite deciding which form to take. She was looking definitively peaked though, even if the most glaring of her features had already retreated.

"I'll go make the calls then, my angel," I took her chin and kissed her cheek, then made my way to the cold fireplace.

A spell, a bit of dust, hurried words, and it was less than ten minutes before the small room was filled with people, all of them surrounding the nest at the centre. The laying was a very private matter, but the hatching was a big family event.

If I told you I could remember saying hello to Apolline I would be lying though, and believe me when I tell you that Apolline is a… Let's say a memorable woman. My closest friends were here too, Ron and Hermione watching the centre of attention with a mix of interest and disconcert. George was holding Angelina's waist, both wide-eyed looking alternatively towards the nest, Fleur and me.

And speaking of Fleur. She was kneeling next to the egg, her mother whispering in her ear. Mr Delacour stood behind them and winked as he caught my eye. That shook me from my stupor for a moment and taking advantage of that I strode towards my wife, steps in sync with my irregular heartbeat I could hear louder than any other sound in the room.

Or so I thought until a cracking sound reached my ears, as loud as an exploding wall. My eyes widened so much they hurt and they found the crack on the shell as if guided by a magnet. I looked at Fleur and found in her face what was certainly a mirror of my own face. By unspoken agreement, we moved closer to our daughter and watched in incredulous rapture as the hard, leathery surface that had been the direct recipient of so much attention and caresses shifted in an impossible way, the small fracture pushing outwards, bursts of clear liquid escaping with each push.

A small chirping sound had me on the verge of jumping to help. How? I don't know. I turned to Fleur who in turn looked at her mother for guidance. We had to wait. I was thrumming with energy and anxiousness. I was worried.

A tiny golden tip showed through the crack in the egg and the sweetest of croons took to the air.

The tiny sound almost made me melt in the spot. Apolline gestured to us and we came into the nest, slowly, carefully widening the fracture as our Claire pushed from the opposite side. In no time at all the egg had broken entirely, the clear sweet-smelling liquid spilling and revealing a pale and bald face a single silver feather in the centre of its smooth surface, scrunched eyes atop the shiniest and tiniest of beaks. She made a sound halfway between a cry and a chirp and I felt compelled to lift her.

Fleur had thought the same and our heads bumped, she had changed entirely and I had not even noticed. I don't think she noticed either.

I lifted the little one with a care that I had not thought myself capable of and she squirmed in my arms for a moment before folding into a comfortable position and emitting that song that I was so familiar with by now.

"She is just like you!" I gasped, amazed.

Fleur scooted over and we both hunched over her and ran our fingers softly over her impossibly soft arms. How could her skin be so soft?

I gestured to Fleur and she took her readily in her arms where Little Claire fussed for a moment before clutching a fistful of feathers and promptly falling asleep, making the most precious little gurgles before rolling with a tiny snore.

Fleur was completely focused on her, her inhuman face hovering over our daughter whose own shapes mirrored her mother in an almost comical way. I embraced them, the little furnace humming with heat between us. Fleur's face nuzzled against my cheek and I turned to plant a kiss on her bill, and another one between her eyes.

She looked at me and then out to the room, which reminded me suddenly that we were not alone.

A lot of bewildered faces looked at us. It made me irrationally angry for a moment, something that Fleur noticed for she nuzzled against me again.

"They mean well, mon cher," she whispered. I looked at her eyes and they smiled, "It is a bit of a shock, is it not?"

I nodded against her and helped her up. "Friends," I said, my voice cracking, "Family. Come, say hello to Claire."

They all rushed in, murmuring congratulations, boisterous and speaking over each other. Hermione, ever curious, was the first to ask if she could hold her.

"Oh my! But she is a warm one."

That made me bark out a laugh.

A hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned to see my father-in-law.

"Congratulations, 'Arry. She is a beautiful little girl."

"Thank you, Rémy. I am just glad everything turned out okay."

"It can be challenging not to know what to expect, I remember that all too well. I'm not going to lie to you, son, and tell you it's going to be easy, but one thing I can tell you. It's going to be worth it."

As I looked at the mass of people fussing over the still peacefully asleep Claire, Fleur positively radiating with pride, I knew him to be right.

"It already is."

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to HonorVerseFan (LTCMDR Michal Drapalik), JuicyFruits, hannibal1234, and x102reddragon for taking the time to distill what was originally a somewhat readable text and for their input and ideas. I, and all those mentioned above, are part of the Harry/Fleur server, we are a pretty active and accepting community with lots of resources available to anyone and lots of great writers. I myself am pretty active there, if anyone is interested in joining ill leave the link here.
> 
> discord.gg/Np2zjAH
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did when I brainstormed it with Honorversefan and later writing it. See you on the next one,
> 
> David


End file.
